Calliope
by Mesmirez
Summary: Ooh, what an original name... Anyways, this is a CATS fanfiction about my fan-character, Calliope. More chapters coming soon. R&R, plzthnx.
1. A dream

Six 'o clock AM. A pale, pinkish tinge was starting to appear on the rocky horizon - slowly but surely dawn arrived, and all the cats, dogs, mice, birds, humans and other inhabitants of the city were stirring and awakening as their nightly respites were so rudely interrupted by the cold morning.

Within the confines of 342, Bixby Avenue, a plump tri-colored cat with fluffy fur and a rather pushed-in nose greeted the dawn with a groggy scowl as she hopelessly tried to block out the light streaming in through the tall, lacey windows by shoving her head under her paws.

After several minutes she sighed and gave this up as a lost cause. Tail twitching irritably, she sank back on her haunches and began to groom her right paw vigorously.

She had been dreaming about _something_ before the sun so annoyingly decided to rise…she knew that much. _What_ she had been dreaming of, however…she closed her eyes in that deep, meditating look that gives the illusion that even the scruffiest of moggies is deep in thought, trying to remember what she had been dreaming about…

This rather disheveled looking cat, though she didn't look it at the moment, happened to be one of the most revered showcats in the nation. She was from one of the most prestigious lines of Siberian Forest cats in the world, the holder of the _Precious Whiskers Cat Show_ "Grand Champion" title three years in a row, had starred in two cat food commercials and was scheduled to make an appearance on a cat documentary for _Animal Planet_ next week.

All-in-all, life was good for the Siberian. She enjoyed posing for pictures for _Cat Fancy_ articles, and the cat shows, while sometimes a bit trying, were always fun. However, as most famous people feel, there was always something _missing_. Just dangling out of reach…ah, it was cliché, but that was how she felt.

"Minnie, Breakfast!" the shrill voice of Miss Grosing cut through her thoughts like a knife, setting her fur on end – which put her in a considerably worse mood as her last half-hour of grooming had just gone to waste, "Come now, Minnie!"

'Minnie' was what the humans referred to her as. She, herself, thought it a nasty, common name. She wished that she could've been called something exotic, like 'Calliope' – She had read the name out of a history book Miss Grosing had left open on the desk once. The name belonged to one of the Greek Muses, the goddesses of fine art. She thought it would've been quite a fine name for herself, though the humans seemed unable to sit down and think of good, original names for their unfortunate pets. At _least_ something better then 'Minnie'.

Sighing and deciding that she would linger on her indefinite dream after a good meal, Minnie leapt from the windowsill where she had been sitting and made her way carefully across the slick faux-marble floors and to the kitchen.


	2. A stranger

Miss Grosing was like Minnie in a number of ways – she was rich, plump and had a good deal of hair. The only difference between them was that Miss Grosing was always significantly more amiable then her feline companion, choosing to use the "It would really mean a lot to me if you would -" approach to getting what she wanted instead of Minnie's more blunt "Get me it _now_ or I'll claw your eyes out."

This morning she was even more jovial then usual; humming cheerfully to herself as she dished some of the moist cat food (or, as Minnie called it, "Rancid glop") into the plastic 'din-din dish' on the table in front of her. A hint of suspicion flickered in Minnie's eyes – a human looking that happy was bound to be up to no good,

"Today's the day!" Miss Grosing trilled, beaming at her as she set the din-din dish on the floor,

Day? What day? It was Tuesday…what was special about Tuesday? Had she missed something important? She sniffed the glop in front of her, wrinkling her nose and wondering if Miss Grosing had put poison in it,

"Eat up; we've got to get ready,"

Minnie narrowed her eyes at the human – something was definitely up. And if something was up, Minnie wasn't going to stick around to wait for it. With a flick of her bushy tail she waddled out of the kitchen at top-speed, Miss Grosing waddling right after her. She took refuge under the sofa, though instantly regretted it as copious amounts of dust were brushed into her already ruffled fur. But thoughts of grooming were pushed out of her mind as the doorbell rang, ending Miss Grosing's attempts to shoo Minnie out from under the sofa with a broomstick,

"Oh, drat, he's here already! He wasn't supposed to come for another hour!" Miss Grosing said, looking worriedly at the watch on her pudgy wrist, then rushing away to answer the door as the bell chimed again impatiently.

It took all of Minnie's strength to stay under the sofa – her fur was a mess, her favorite blue ribbon collar was ruined and she had dust in her nose; but she forced herself to stay put, perking her lynx-tipped ears to catch the voices of Miss Grosing and her guest in the next room,

"Please excuse the mess, I think Minnie ate something that didn't agree with her last night – she's been jumpy all morning,"

Minnie caught a muffled, "No problem," before both voices were drowned out by a loud "_Mrrrrooow?_" that made her blood run cold. Another cat? What was another cat doing in _her_ house? She swished her tail crossly, sending twin clouds of dust swirling about her. She heard the footsteps of Miss Grosing and her guests approaching and retreated further under the sofa. She could just see a pair of dark suede boots beside Miss Grosing's much-too-small high heeled ones,

"She was somewhere around here… Minnie? – Ah, well, you can let George out of his crate. Let them get acquainted," came Miss Grosing's voice.

"If you say so," the unfamiliar man's voice said curtly, and a few seconds later a small 'click' was heard and a soft thump as the other cat leapt out of its crate.


	3. A very SUSPICIOUS stranger

A set of ginger-and-white paws hit the floor in front of her, followed by an auburn-ringed bristly tail swishing slowly and contemplatively as, she assumed, the cat observed its new surroundings. As the footsteps of the two humans faded, Minnie did her best to tidy her fur and straighten her collar out in the limited space she had under the sofa before, with some difficulty due to her less-then-slender physique, squeezing out of her hiding place to confront this 'George'.

"Excuse me-" she began haughtily, but quickly trailed off. The cat standing in front of her couldn't have been more then a few months old. At the sound of her voice it turned its outsized head and blinked hazily at her with innocent azure eyes. Minnie suddenly felt very foolish. A bit baffled, she began again in what she hoped was a motherly sort of voice,

"Err…George, is it?"

The kitten didn't reply, but tilted its head to one side, still keeping its unnervingly cute gaze on Minnie in a most uncomfortable fashion. Minnie shook herself slightly and leapt lightly onto the faux-leather sofa to regain her bearings before going to voice her complaints about the kitten to Miss Grosing; eyes narrowed contemptuously at the kitten as it explored the room. What on earth had she done to deserve such a day? It wasn't even half past morning and, and _this_...

She had just made up her mind to go root out Miss Grosing when a deafening crash sent her scrambling back under the sofa - that wretched kitten had jumped up on the coffee table, knocking over one of Miss Grosing's favorite ugly ceramic vases in the process! Seconds later another tinkling crash of breaking chinaware sounded as Miss Grosing dropped her teacup and ran into the room,

"What the devil happened? My vase!" she cried, staring at the remains of the ugly green urn in despair,

"What's the matter?" said the man, entering the room. Miss Grosing motioned to the broken vase.

"It was an heirloom," she sniffed. The man cut in rather too quickly to be altogether believable,

"Don't worry, I'll clean this up and see what I can do to fix it. George did it after all," he said kindly,

"Oh, I couldn't let you – you _are_ my guest," said Miss Grosing sweetly,

"I'll get it," insisted the man, but Minnie caught a hint of coldness behind his kind voice. Miss Grosing succumbed after that and returned to the breakfast nook – Minnie was sure that she had no real intentions of cleaning up the mess if she could help it.

The man, however, did not clean up the broken vase at first; instead he began to open and sift through the drawers of Miss Grosing's antique dresser. Minnie gave a loud, insulted meow to the man – what did he think he was doing? The man held in a yelp and slammed the drawer shut, cursing under his breath,

"What was that noise?" shouted Miss Grosing's voice. The man said nothing, cursing again, and began to hastily sweep the broken pitcher into a dustpan before returning, defeated, to Miss Grosing.

Minnie stared at the kitten, which now had a rather smug look on his face,

"You did that on purpose," she accused in an affronted voice. The kitten said nothing.


	4. Catnapped

Minnie flicked her tail tersely as she sat on the floral-designed cushioned chairs in the breakfast nook, wishing for some way to inform Miss Grosing of her guest's untrustworthiness. Miss Grosing seemed to have gotten over the loss of her vase quickly at the sight of Minnie up and running again,

"Minnie, this is Roberts – He's a world-famous cat breeder who has kindly come all the way from…er, Switzerland, right? To give me some tips on showing you this spring."

Showing tips? Like she _needed_ them…huff. However, her suspicions were put to rest for the time being – Miss Grosing always had breeders over, though she rarely got so exited over them. The kitten incident…she was becoming too paranoid. Sighing, she retired to the living room for a good nap.

-

Hours later, and late into the night, Minnie's dreams were interrupted once again, but this time not by the sun – the moon still hung in the sky, and the chirping of many foul night creatures could be heard through the thick windows. Footsteps…that was what had woken her. But whose? She opened her eyes blearily and caught the outline of Roberts' tall form. What was he doing, stupid human?

Roberts was carrying the same cat carrier he had used to bring George in and a can of tuna – not even very good quality tuna, either, she noted. This _was_ suspicious.

Roberts beckoned for Minnie to come into the crate.

Now, Minnie was not very intelligent on the subject of a lot of things, amazingly, but strange men trying to get you into a cat carrier in the middle of the night without your owner's consent just tended to send off warning sirens in your mind.

"Heeere, kitty," said Roberts soothingly, reaching out a hand to Minnie. Minnie thrashed her tail groggily and glared at the hand. _No one_ called her kitty; not even fakey world-famous cat breeders from Switzerland. She leapt from the windowsill, still half-dozing, but determined, as she walked. The man followed close behind, his footsteps as soft as he could make them, not seeming altogether concerned that Minnie was headed straight for Miss Grosing's sleeping quarters – Minnie soon found out why. Stupid humans and their thinking ahead; he'd locked the door.

Now slightly panicked and wide awake, Minnie made a run for the door – maybe by sheer willpower she could squeeze through the mail slot. But, alas, she never made it to the door. A pair of rough hands closed around her and before she could scream she was flung unceremoniously into the crate. Roberts allowed himself a quiet "Aha!" in victory before heaving his load as quietly as possible to the door.

Minnie flopped limply about in the crate – she had not had a good day.


	5. Confusion

_I'm horribly sorry for this ridiculously long wait, it won't happen again, I've threatened my muse into submission and I'll hopefully at least get this story done before writer's block rears its ugly head. _

_---_

"So, what are we going to do with it when it wakes up?"

"Do? With it? Bro, it's a cat, not a toy."

"Well we did save her."

Minnie forced her eyes to open, wondering who was talking and why they were in her house, and why her bed suddenly felt suspiciously like cement. It was dark still; though there was that tranquil sort of feeling that told her dawn was not far off. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that there were cats surrounding her – feral, scruffy looking things…she soon forgot about the condition of the cats, however, as she realized that she was outside, the mansion was nowhere in sight, and that moments ago she was the prisoner of a deranged catnapper.

_"Where am I?"_ she shrieked, sitting up so suddenly that she sent two of the cats diving for cover behind the nearby dumpsters.

"According to the sign, Burton Street," said one of the cats apprehensively from behind a dumpster, a tom with a rough orange and white coat on which she could see the fleas swarming on even from across the alleyway.

"No, no, I mean how did I get here? Where's the mansion? Where's Roberts?" Minnie was too upset even to worry about the fleas, something she would sorely regret later.

"The first and last we can answer," said a skinny tortishell queen, motioning to something behind Minnie's shoulder with one paw.

Minnie looked and gasped – a smoldering pile of metal seemed to be all that was left of Roberts' car, and she couldn't even imagine what shape Roberts himself was in. She could hardly keep herself from fainting on the spot, "How…_how?"_

"No time to explain right now. We've got to get going before the police come. Where did you say you lived?" said the queen, ignoring Minnie's obvious distress and perking her ears for the sound of sirens.

"Uh…uh…" Minnie, even in her normal state, had never really bothered to memorize exactly where the mansion was, and, looking around, didn't seem to have the faintest idea where she was, "Uh."

"Never mind now, we'll find it later, we're going to have to stowaway in the junkyard until they've gotten this mess cleaned up," a brown and white tom cut in, wrinkling his nose distastefully at the wreck.

Minnie sputtered – no matter where she was or what was happening, the very thought of going to a disgusting place like a junkyard appalled her beyond words. However, she didn't have much choice then to be bustled along by the small crowd of alley cats, still too shocked to put up much of a fuss other then "Bu–"

And so after weaving their way through the back alleys of - what seemed to Minnie at the time - the whole of London, they arrived at the junkyard.


End file.
